It Could All Change
by Miracle B
Summary: Ash Ketchum and Molly Hale have known each other since birth. They grew up together and bonded in ways unimaginable. Somehow, they lost touch. Does this mean forever? I don't think so.
1. Prologue - 13 years ago

_**13 years ago**_

'Betcha can't catch me!' Molly squealed, sprinting into the distance; her statement grew quieter as she bounded metres away from Ash.

Ash watched as her tiny ponytails bobbed up and down as she ran further and further down the winding lane to Goldenrod City. The lane was overshadowed by trees that shaded the path, swallowing Molly's small stature along with her lengthening shadow. The branches either side of the path seemed to reach over and touch, as if they were straining to continue to hold together the path that turned this way and that: no definite end in sight. He cupped his mouth with his hands:

'I'm sure I can catch you up, Molly!'

A faint, muffled voice could be heard a fair way down the lane.

_I should go after her. '_Coming, Molly! Hey, wait up!' Ash called in Molly's general direction. He started off down the cobbled lane, enjoying the sun and his childhood.


	2. The Start

Molly suddenly rose from her deep slumber. It was 03:00AM, according to the clock over on the left wall. She had been waking at this time for the past 2-and-a-half months before slinging her duvet covers back, sliding her slender legs out of bed, pulling on a pair of Pikachu slippers and creeping downstairs to make herself a cup of coco.

This usually sent her straight back to sleep, when she'd wake at a normal time and get carry on with her day. Today, it didn't.

'It's so dark outside,' Molly muttered to herself, dragging her slippers across the floor to the window, where she wiped the dusty surface with her hand as if to imitate cleaning and climbed onto the window frame.

She tucked her legs into a ball and hugged them, leaning against the window. It had started to frost over with the very thought of the cold winter yet to come.

Molly looked around the room; it wasn't really hers, was it? Of course, it was her father's. After all, he paid for the house that she lounges around in. _That compensation wage from his work really came in handy, I guess._ She thought this as she tapped at the window as gently as she could manage, feeling comforted by the tiny echo it created.

Her father was upstairs, sleeping, as their house was three stories high. She felt lucky to live in such a house: in a place so isolated that socialising was a rare occurrence.

She enjoyed the alone time she got, though. Her father was always working, anyway, so she never really got to be around people.

Glancing around the room, she could see remnants from the icy palace she once did live. Embarrassed was an understatement. Molly hated the way that everybody remembered what had happened, how everybody always commented on her past mistakes. She was 6 years old, for Christ's sake! Children do these sort of things.

Children are children. What do other people expect them to be?

She slammed down her cup of hot coco and watched, almost in slow motion, as the beverage took on the personality of a wave in the large oceans, slipping over her cup and landing mostly on her slippers, though a drop or two scolded her ankles.

'Oh, f-'

She got up from the window pane and scurried to the kitchen. Within seconds, she submerged her foot, slipper and all, in a plastic bowl filled with freezing water. Molly muttered a string of curses to herself as the freezing water started to numb her foot.

'That sound stop any scarring.'

She was in an awkward position, really. Imagine: standing in the kitchen with your leg cocked up onto the sink, bent at the knee, to submerge in a bucket of water. As you can probably tell, it wasn't the most comfortable or practical position but it'd do.

_It could be worse, _Molly sighed inwardly as she struggled to balance on the one foot that was placed on the floor.

Making her way back to the window, she once again threw herself onto the pane.

'Everything ok, Mol?'

Molly turned to face the door that was opposite her window.

'Dad? Why're you up so early?' Molly looked down at the floor, 'I didn't wake you, did I?'

She looked into her dad's eyes.

'No, of course not. I was up anyway. I had this feeling and I just needed to check on you. Are you sure everything is ok? You can tell me, you know, Mol.' Spencer, Molly's dad, sat down onto her bed. 'Come sit next to me.'

Molly made her way to the bed. With every step, water droplets were pooling in her slippers.

'Yes?'

'You know, I know I'm not your mother. I know I will never be your mother. She was a beautiful human being and created such a beautiful life, Molly. That life is you. I want you to know that I'm always here for you. Whether I'm busy with work or whatnot, I'm always here. Just call me up at any time of the day or night. I promise I'll always be with you.' Spencer looked away, taking a deep breath.

The look on Molly's face said it all; she didn't know what to think or say, whether to laugh and call her dad a sop or whether to reach out towards him, give him a huge hug and cry into his shoulders. Awkwardly, she reached out and patted her dad on the shoulder. He turned to her and she gave him a warming half-smile.

'I'll be fine dad.'

Even for Molly, the imaginary full stop on that sentence seemed final.


End file.
